


tell me you're here

by starblessed



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotions, F/M, Hospitals, Missing Scene, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 06:32:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13564833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starblessed/pseuds/starblessed
Summary: Now Anne knows what real fear is. It is not the harsh glares of strangers following her down the street. Fear is stepping out of her dressing room to see a wall of flames racing up the stairs towards her. Fear is stumbling down the back stairs into the cold night air with the desperate thoughts of her brother, her family, all trapped in the inferno behind her. Fear is seeing her love carried out of a burning building, limp and lifeless, and being certain that he is gone.Anne isso tiredof being afraid.





	tell me you're here

**Author's Note:**

> written for a tumblr prompt!
> 
> As always, I'm on Tumblr at [abroholoselephanta](http://abroholoselephanta.tumblr.com/)!

Her eyes are closed when she feels Phillip’s hand tighten around hers.

Immediately, Anne springs to awareness. A gasp catches in her throat; she is afraid to let it sound, to even breathe too loudly, in case it shatters whatever fragile current of life is creeping through Phillip’s veins. She stares at their interlocked hands, frozen. Phillip’s fingers are red and ragged, the skin around his torn nails burned; Anne’s own are bitten to the quick.

Her mind has just convinced her that it was a muscle spasm — or worse, an illusion — when Phillip’s hand moves again.

This time it is definite. A strong, sure squeeze. A sign of life.

She holds her breath.

Phillip’s eyes flicker open. Anne can not restrain a whimper. She leans forward, pressing her chin to Phillip’s hand, holding him tightly as if she can stop him from drifting away again. Her eyes brim with tears.

He is dazed, hazy from pain and morphine, gazing up at her from the edge of a coma. For a moment she is sure he won’t be aware enough to recognize her. Then his eyes focus, and he exhales: “You’re here.”

He sounds _disbelieving_ — and this, more than anything else, cuts Anne to the quick. He ran into a burning building for her, and didn’t expect her to be there when he woke up? Was his last thought before losing consciousness that he failed? Did Phillip, even for a second, believe he lost her the same way she almost lost him?

Every instinct drives her forward. There is no second of hesitation; there is no time for fear. All she knows is that Phillip is here now, alive, and he’s going to be okay. They haven’t lost each other; and she cannot risk it a moment longer.

She presses her lips to Phillip, and it is nothing like all the dangerous times she allowed her mind to wander into fantasy. This is real. He tastes like ash and blood, and is still against her mouth; but he is real. He is almost too weak to reciprocate, but when Anne pulls away for air, a hand cups the back of her neck and pulls her back. She kisses him again. This time, _life_ tastes sweet on his lips.

It is not like those moments intertwined in the air, when they were the only two people on earth. Here, they are not alone. Anne can feel eyes on them, but she does not care. They don’t matter. The only thing that matters now is Phillip, and he is so very close to her.

“Always,” she breathes against his lips. “I’ll _always_ be here.”

* * *

He is not awake for long. He fades back into sleep soon after they pull apart; but this time, it is not a sleep of death. Anne can finally breathe. A massive weight has been lifted off her chest; her ribs are no longer being crushed, her heart no longer swells against its constraints. She feels herself begin to come back to life alongside Phillip. While he slumbers she drinks some water, and eats a roll one of the nurses offers her.

When Phillip opens his eyes again, she is ready.

“I thought you died,” she tells him, pulling his hand close to her chest. Her ears beats against his palm; she never wants to move it. “For me. I wouldn’t have been able to bear that.”

Phillip is more aware now; his eyes study her face, alert and gentle. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I wasn’t able to save you.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t need you to save me, fool boy. I just need you to take care of yourself. Don’t... don’t go and do ridiculous things, and make me have to worry about you.” (No doubt she’s waging war against the tide here: this is the same man who leapt from the museum’s ramparts, _trusting_ that she would catch him. Self-preservation is not Phillip’s style.)

Phillip offers her a tiny smile, making his busted lip bleed. “You were worried about me, huh?”

She huffs a laugh, and his smile widens. Cheeky, as always. _God,_ she loves him.

The thought sobers her. Anne looks up and meets his eyes, unabashed. “I thought I lost you.”

If Phillip is surprised, he doesn’t show it. He just squeezes Anne’s hands tighter. “I’m right here.”

He _is_ here — and she can’t stand the idea of him ever leaving again. As she watched the doctors work on him through the night, her mind was abuzz with all the times she walked away from Phillip. At the theatre; in the ring; and through the weeks spent avoiding him afterwards. All the times she could have loved him, but _didn’t,_ because she convinced herself they were star-crossed. Because she was afraid.

Now Anne knows what real fear is. It is not the harsh glares of strangers following her down the street. _Fear_ is stepping out of her dressing room to see a wall of flames racing up the stairs towards her. _Fear_ is stumbling down the back stairs into the cold night air with the desperate thoughts of her brother, her family, all trapped in the inferno behind her. _Fear_ is seeing her love carried out of a burning building, limp and lifeless, and being certain that he is gone.

Anne is _so damn tired_ of being afraid.

She takes a deep breath, squeezing his hand tight, and raises her eyes to meet his. Something in her gaze must startled him, because his face betrays shock, crystal-clear. Anne doesn’t falter, doesn’t flinch. “I can’t lose you before we even get the chance to try.”

Phillip’s eyes widen. His mouth parts in amazement; he brims with hope he doesn’t dare to voice. When Anne lifts his hand to her lips, something in Phillip breaks.

“Then we try,” he says, looking torn between laughter and tears. “We can start today.”

“We’ll start right now,” Anne replies. The words are a promise — one she holds in her heart as firmly as an engraving upon stone. She won’t turn her back on Phillip again. Life is short — there’s no time for prejudice or fear.

As long at they have each other, it will be enough.


End file.
